Between Friends by Debbie Macomber (11)

January 1, 1973

Dearest Nick,

I woke up early this afternoon after a late New Year’s Eve party at a friend’s house. As I lay in bed, my thoughts were on the new year, but my heart drifted back to you. I guess I’ve been feeling guilty because of Thom and me. I’ve been seeing quite a bit of Thom Eliason. We met a few years ago at a protest rally and we’re both attending Harvard Law School. You and Lesley always said I’d make a great attorney and I’m beginning to realize how right you were.

I love the law and am working hard to grasp its principles. I long to make the laws of our land more equitable for women. It’ll happen in time. The changes of the last few years would shock you, but I don’t think you’d be upset, the way some men are. (It won’t surprise you to learn that my father is one of them!) Honest to God, I don’t know what men are so afraid of.

I don’t want to get sidetracked on the issue of women’s rights. My feeling is that the Equal Rights Amendment will eventually pass. Too many women have put their hearts behind this constitutional amendment for it to fail now. As you can see, I’ve become more politically minded than ever. Law school has had that effect on me.

About Thom. I figured I should tell you I’ve been sleeping with him. It’s nothing like what we shared. It happened the first time after a few joints, when my inhibitions were lowered. It’s continued because...well, because it feels good to have someone hold me. Thom seems to understand that this is a physical thing and my emotions aren’t involved. We don’t talk about it.

Marriage isn’t a subject I even consider, although according to Lesley, who keeps track of this sort of thing, nearly ninety percent of the girls in our high school class are now married. Lesley’s worried that unless I find a husband soon, I’ll end up an old maid. As a mother of three, she has difficulty accepting the fact that I have no interest in marriage or a family. Good grief, I’m only twenty-five! I’ve repeatedly told her I never intend to marry, but (like my parents) she doesn’t believe me. It isn’t an issue with us, but I do find her attitude amusing.

I have big expectations for this new year. I only wish you were here to share them with me. I think of you, and talk to you so often in my head that sometimes I can almost believe you’re still alive. Sometimes I indulge in the luxury of pretending that you came home to me and that we’re married and we’ve had a baby or two. I think about you and Brad Lincoln starting up your own business, the way you so often mentioned. But sooner or later, reality hits. You never came home and the happy life we planned is nothing more than the lingering memories of a dream that died with you.

Please don’t mind about Thom and me. You’re the only man I’ve ever truly loved. The only man I ever will. I’m not the girl I was back when you knew me. I’m a woman now, and I’d like to believe you’d approve of the changes.

Remember how much I love you.

Jillian

February 14, 1973

Dearest Jillian,

Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you like the big red heart Davey made you. He’s so proud of it. His was the best-looking one in his entire first-grade class. (But then, you could say I’m prejudiced.) Lindy made you a valentine, too. She’s thrilled that she can print her own name now. I haven’t the heart to tell her that Ydnil isn’t quite right. (Her kindergarten teacher told me not to worry—left-handed children often do this.) It’s amazing to think that my children are attending the same parochial school you and I did. St. Catherine’s is letting me work part-time in the cafeteria to help pay for Davey and Lindy’s tuition. The timing is perfect for me. It’s during Dougie’s nap time and Mom puts him down at her house and he barely knows I’m gone.

Buck is back at work now and I’m relieved. Not knowing where the money’s going to come from for the next trailer payment was such a worry. The food stamps helped with the groceries, but accepting charity, even from the government, mortifies me. I could barely show my face in the Albertson’s Store. It bothered me to the point that Buck volunteered to do the shopping. Okay, he didn’t exactly volunteer, it was a tradeoff. Buck invited his cousin Moose Garrison from Montana to live with us until he found a job. This guy eats like a moose, too, and it didn’t take much to envision him chomping his way through my weekly grocery allotment.

You’ll love this. At dinner the first night Moose showed up, Lindy sat down at the table, looked him square in the eye and said, “My mom says you’re gonna eat us out of house and home.” I could have died!

Moose ended up staying two weeks and expected me to wait on him hand and foot. I put up with him, but in exchange Buck started doing the grocery shopping. He didn’t like it, but I told him the job was his until he returned to work. Three weeks later, the mill called. I’ve never seen Buck this eager to get back on the job.

Did you see the television news the other night about the released American POWs landing at Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines? I sat there and wept for joy. Thank God this horrible war is almost over. It’s hard to believe anyone could survive such a horrendous ordeal as a prison camp. These men say a great deal about the strength of the human spirit, don’t they?

Jillian, something you said when we talked at Christmas has stayed on my mind. You told me you’d stopped attending Mass because of the Catholic Church’s stand on birth control and other issues regarding women. I’ve thought a lot about our discussion and I don’t agree, especially with what you said about birth control. Do you sincerely believe the Church would attempt to subjugate women by burdening them with more children than they can handle? As you know, Buck and I have struggled with this very issue. We’ve practiced the rhythm method all these years—with limited success.

Right before Dougie was born, Dr. Boone suggested I have a tubal ligation. I refused. As a practicing Catholic I just couldn’t. I’m as careful as I can be, but I feel God knows how many children Buck and I should have. It’s more than the Church’s stand; it’s a matter of faith, too.

Your not attending Mass wouldn’t bother me as much if you’d decided to join another church, but you haven’t. (Sister Martin de Porres would swallow her tongue if she heard me suggest anyone step inside a Protestant church!) From the way you were talking, it’s almost as if you believe God is against women. I refuse to even consider such a thing. I need God in my life and I need my faith. I couldn’t manage to survive a single day without getting down on my knees and saying the rosary. All I’m asking is that you not be too quick to abandon your faith.

I know you think I’m hopelessly naïve and perhaps I am, but I choose to believe. The alternative would destroy the very foundation of my life.

Keep in touch. You have no idea how much I enjoy your letters.

Lots of love,
Lesley and all

February 17, 1973

Dear Thom,

I don’t know where to start other than to say how sorry I am. The engagement ring you bought me for Valentine’s Day was lovely. But I don’t think I’ve ever been more surprised.

Actually, it came as a complete shock, since we’d never discussed marriage. I suppose I should’ve realized that all the talk about our moving in together was your way of leading up to the marriage proposal. Thank you for your patience and for giving me time to think this over.

Please don’t be angry with me, but I’m simply not interested in marriage. I don’t want to marry anyone. I’ve got another year and a half of school before I take the bar exam. (We both do!) Also, I don’t know if I mentioned that my father’s health hasn’t been good, which is the reason I’ve made frequent trips to the West Coast. Once I do pass the bar, I’m contemplating a move back to Washington State, to work at my father’s firm.

I’m not the right wife for you. I’ve enjoyed your friendship, especially in the last six months, but I can’t accept your proposal. Please try to understand.

Jillian

February 24, 1973

Dear Jillian,

Your letter told me how difficult you found my marriage proposal. The fact that you chose to write me instead of talking this out, face-to-face, tells me you’re upset. I don’t want you to be. I certainly didn’t intend (or expect) my proposal to send you fleeing in the opposite direction!

What did you think, Jillian? Are you afraid my ego’s too fragile to handle rejection? I’d hoped that you, of all people, would know me better. But don’t worry, I’m cool with this. If you just want to live together for a while, that suits me fine. Call me and we can talk.

Thom

March 1, 1973

Dear Mr. Brad Lincoln,

Your letter addressed to Jillian arrived at the family home this past week. Please forgive me for reading something that wasn’t addressed to me. You see, I recognized your name. Jillian told me about you shortly after Nick died.

She’s had a very hard time dealing with the loss of her high-school sweetheart and is only now starting to adjust and date again. I was afraid your letter would distress her. As her mother, I was trying to prevent that. I hope you’ll forgive me for intruding in this manner.

After careful consideration, I have decided against forwarding your letter to my daughter. I’m afraid that your contacting Jillian now would do her more harm than good. I understand your guilt over Nick’s death, but I don’t believe Jillian is the one who can absolve it. For whatever reason, God chose to let you live. Who is either one of us to question His will? Who are we to know His reasons?

Nick’s death nearly destroyed our daughter. It’s taken her five years to deal with her loss. Currently she’s dating another law student, and her father and I are encouraged by the relationship.

As her mother, I beg you to leave her alone. Please don’t attempt to contact her again. I will pray for you, and I hope this mental anguish will abate in time.

Try to understand why I’m doing this.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Leonard Lawton

March 4, 1973

Dear Jillian,

So we’re back to letter-writing. I’m disappointed, but if this is the way you want it, then this is the way it’ll be.

I thought you loved me, but I’m not sure anymore. Perhaps you care for me, but not in the same way as you loved the boy from your hometown who died in Vietnam. You didn’t think I knew about him, did you? I never mentioned it, but you talk to him in your sleep. It took me a while to put two and two together. I loved you enough to hope that eventually you’d be willing to let go of the past and live in the here and now. Apparently I’ve been wasting my time.

I’m sorry, Jillian, for believing you’d want to marry me. Obviously I was wrong. Perhaps some day you’ll have a clearer picture of what you really want in life.

I agree. It would be best for all concerned if we no longer saw each other.

Thom

March 10, 1973

Dear Buck,

Seeing that you won’t phone me and have dropped out of the bowling league, you give me no choice but to write you a letter. The last time you stopped off at the house, I told you I was late. You acted like it didn’t worry you and said that you were crazy about me. I was stupid enough to believe you. I’m still late and the virus I picked up appears to be the nine-month variety. I’m pregnant, Buck, going on two months, and I want to know what you intend to do about it.

Moose finally broke down and told me you’re married. That’s just hunky-dory! You might’ve mentioned it. Later I learned I’m not the only woman you’ve fooled around with behind your wife’s back. Denise Gavin told me all about your fling with her, only she was married herself. Well, I’m not married and I didn’t know you were. If I’d known, you can bet we’d never have ended up in bed together, but it doesn’t matter now. Right? You got what you wanted, and then some. Congratulate yourself because you fooled me into believing you actually cared.

I went to a clinic and found out an abortion will cost $150. Either I receive the full amount by next Monday or I’m going directly to your wife. I wonder if she realizes her husband sleeps around? First Denise and now me, and God knows how many others. Maybe it’s time someone told your wife exactly what kind of man you are.

Terri

April 11, 1973

Lesley,

Let’s make one thing clear right now. There’s no way in hell I’m moving out of this trailer. It was thanks to my sweat and blood that we made each and every one of those payments. If you’re so keen on filing for divorce, go ahead, but I’m keeping what’s mine, including the trailer. You can have the kids and what you need for them, but everything else is my property. Blame me if you want for what happened with Terri, but a man needs a real woman in his bed, not one who’s constantly worried about getting pregnant.

If you insist on leaving, I say fine. Just go.

Like you said, there’s no reason for us to talk again. That’s fine by me, too. Have your attorney contact me. One question—how are you going to afford an attorney? I can tell you right now, I’m not paying for it.

Buck

April 14, 1973

Dearest Jillian,

The siege at Wounded Knee is finally over, and the news is filled with talk of the break-in at Watergate and President Nixon’s involvement. I wish I could tell you that my own life has settled down, but it’s gone from bad to worse. For once, the house is quiet. The kids are all sleeping and the television is off. I’m not writing this from home, though. The kids and I are doubled up with my brother Mike, who recently moved back from California. He’s letting us stay with him until things get straightened out between Buck and me. There are five of us in a one-bedroom apartment, so you can imagine what it’s been like for the past few days.

This letter is to tell you what’s been happening and also to apologize. I’ve owed you an apology for nearly eight years. Do you remember the summer after graduation when you saw Buck with Tessa McKnight shortly before he and I were married? Buck convinced me it must’ve been someone who looked like him. Then, three years ago, a man came to my door and left a message saying that Buck had better stay away from his wife. I remember how shocked he looked when he saw me. He didn’t have any idea that Buck was married.

Neither did Terri Noble. I received a letter from her last week, telling me Buck got her pregnant. He claimed because he was Catholic he was against abortion and wouldn’t pay for one. The Church takes a similar view of infidelity, but apparently that didn’t bother him.

When Buck came home from the mill, I showed him the letter. He blew up and asked how I could possibly believe this woman. A stranger I didn’t even know. He was hurt and offended that I’d take her word over his. Frankly, it never occurred to me not to believe her. I asked Buck to move out and he refused.

I’m filing for divorce as soon as I can afford an attorney. I have to, Jillian, in order to maintain my sanity. I wanted this marriage to work, but not at the price of my dignity.

The peace this evening feels like the lull before the storm. I can’t continue to burden my brother with my problems. Mike barely makes enough to support himself, let alone three children and me. Mom wants to help, but my dad’s forbidden her to speak to me. All he’s done, from the moment I told him I’m divorcing Buck, is quote chapter and verse about how it’s a woman’s duty to stand by her man, regardless of his faults.

At this point, the future looks like a constant battle but I don’t care. All I know is that I can’t stay in this marriage. I’m sorry for not believing you all those years ago. I would’ve saved myself a lot of grief if I had. Please don’t send mail to the trailer. I sincerely doubt he’d give me any letters from you, especially since he knows how much I treasure them.

Love,
Lesley

May 1, 1973

Dear Lesley,

I’m sorry to hear about you and Buck. I wish we lived closer so I could really help you. It makes me mad that Dad won’t let you live at the house, but it upsets me even more that he won’t allow Mom to see you and the kids. That’s downright cruel.

I remember how he was when Bill and I came to visit shortly after we got married. Dad refused to meet my husband. He refused to have anything to do with Bill or me. His excuse was that Bill and I were married outside the Church. The real reason was because I got out from under his unreasonable, fickle thumb. He always disapproved of me joining the Navy. He did everything he could to stop me from leaving home. He didn’t get the opportunity to choose my husband for me, the way he did you. Dad didn’t give you any choice but to marry Buck. I know what happened, Les. I figured it out. Buck raped you, didn’t he? Then you ended up pregnant with Davey and you were trapped. Well, I saw what happened to you and got out before Dad could mess up my life, too.

You didn’t ask for help, but you’re my sister and I can’t bear the thought of you and the children hurting or hungry. Bill and I talked it over and we’re enclosing a check for $100. It isn’t much, but it’ll help a little.

I’m so proud of Mike for stepping in and helping you. He said Joe and Bruce and Lily are giving you whatever spare cash they can. We’re behind you 100%. Don’t worry, Les. Everything’s going to work out. Buck doesn’t deserve you. He never did.

Love,
Bill, Susan and Aaron

May 2, 1973

Dearest Lesley,

Your letter was waiting for me when I returned from a week in Nantucket. Oh, Les, I am so sorry. I never tried to hide my feelings about Buck. I didn’t want you to marry him. I didn’t feel he was anywhere near good enough for you. It’s true; my reasons weren’t entirely selfless—I wanted you to attend the University of Washington, or any college for that matter. I wanted us to be together the way we’d been since we were kids.

You’re a wonderful mother, Lesley. I’ve often admired that about you. Your children are as dear to me as if they were my own, especially Lindy, who holds my heart in the palm of her hand.

I know how difficult all of this has been. I’m impressed by your courage, especially in light of all the opposition you’ve faced. I also know this decision wasn’t made without a great deal of thought. But, Lesley, Buck is no kind of husband.

Now, here’s what I want you to do, and please, for once, don’t argue with me. This isn’t charity. I talked to my mom this afternoon and she’s going to give you a job. Her housekeeper has retired and she needs a replacement. She wants to hire you, and before you say no, it was her idea, not mine. The money probably won’t completely support you and the kids, but that’s what child support payments are all about.

I have an attorney for you. Montgomery Gordon is the best attorney in town and quite possibly the state. He’s one of my dad’s partners and a bit of a stuffed shirt, but he’s good. Mom mentioned your case to him and he’s offered to represent you without charge. Personally, I can hardly wait for him to get his claws into Buck.

I’ll be in touch. Don’t worry, Lesley, everything’s going to work out.

Love,
Jillian

June 1, 1973

Dear Mr. Gordon,

Thank you so much for your efforts on my behalf. I know you felt bad that you weren’t able to remove Buck from the trailer, but you did accomplish what you set out to do. The children and I now have a place to live without needing to rely on my brother.

You asked me to think about having the judge issue a restraining order against Buck. I’ve given this serious thought, but I don’t believe it’s necessary. Even though Buck sometimes blows up like that, his temper tantrums generally end quickly. He was upset because the judge ordered him to pay the rent on the apartment for me and the kids.

Having to pay the rent and the amount of child support the judge ordered until the divorce is final was a shock to him. Apparently he assumed he wouldn’t be asked to accept financial responsibility because I was the one who filed for divorce. With the rent covered, plus Buck’s payments and what I’m making as a housekeeper for Judge and Mrs. Lawton, I’ll be able to support my children. Unfortunately it was necessary to withdraw them from the Catholic school, but that couldn’t be helped. They’ll start public school in September.

Again, my appreciation.

Sincerely,
Lesley Knowles

July 2, 1973

My dearest Lesley,

I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you and the children. Your father has been extremely unreasonable about this. When he learned I’d been over to see you and the kids, he got into such a state, he nearly had a heart attack. He’s absolutely forbidden me to contact you again. This situation with the long gas lines isn’t helping his temper any. He waited two hours to fill up yesterday and came home in a horrible mood. As far as I’m concerned, OPEC is a four-letter word!

Does Jillian know about Mr. Murphy’s gas station closing down? It’s the saddest thing to see a man’s lifework disappear because of foreign greed.

I’m miserable without you and dreadfully miss seeing my grandbabies. Lily has agreed to deliver this note to you, plus the ten dollars. I wish it was more, but that’s all I was able to get this week without your father suspecting.

Buck was here for dinner yesterday. I could hardly look at him, and I was disgusted that your father would have anything to do with the man. Buck and your dad sat around all afternoon watching baseball and drinking beer. Buck complained the entire time about that highfalutin attorney you’ve got working for you. It was all I could do not to stand up and cheer. He’s let himself go, I noticed. His shirt needed washing and he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. Your father assured Buck you’d come to your senses soon.

Don’t give in, Lesley. Your father would probably put his fist through the wall if he knew I’d said that. You have more courage than I ever did. I’m proud of you.

I love you, sweetheart. Stay strong.

Love,
Mom

July 5, 1973

Dear Daddy,

I miss you. I saw fireworks at the park.

Love,
Davey

July 10, 1973

Dear Lesley,

Okay, baby, you win. I miss you and the kids too damn much to pretend I don’t. I wake up in the morning and there’s no reason to crawl out of bed. For years this trailer didn’t seem to have an inch of extra space. Now it feels big enough to drown in.

I’m sorry about Terri, sorrier than you’ll ever know. I’m not going to offer any excuses—it happened and I was the one at fault. I regretted it all along. I never meant to hurt you or the kids, and I can see that I have.

Can we talk? Please? I miss my family. Nothing is right without you. The kids miss me, too. I want to see them. Let me visit, okay? How about if I come this weekend? I’ll take Davey fishing. You know how he’s always wanted to go with me. Later I’ll take Lindy and Dougie for ice cream so they won’t feel left out. Afterward, you and I can talk. Say I can come, Lesley. Don’t keep me away from my children.

I don’t deserve you, but I’m begging you, baby. Talk to me, that’s all I’m asking. Give me a chance to make it up to you and the kids.

Buck

August 4, 1973

Dear Montgomery,

Just a note to thank you for all the work you’ve put into helping my friend in the matter of her divorce. In her last letter to me, Lesley mentioned that she and Buck were talking about reconciling. I’d hate to see that happen, but I can’t make the decision for her.

I appreciate the updates on my father’s health. He does seem more chipper these days and I’m sure that’s because you’ve taken over a number of his professional responsibilities. But it won’t be forever; if everything goes according to schedule, I’ll be joining the firm about this time next year.

My parents consider you a valued friend and I want you to know that I do, too.

Sincerely,
Jillian

September 12, 1973

Dear Jillian,

I’m enclosing a picture of me and the kids. I’m the one with the big hair. I love this new style! All I have to do in the morning is wash it and let it dry. Of course, my head looks like a dandelion gone to seed, but that’s beside the point.

The kids look happy, don’t they? Davey has missed his father something fierce—his daddy and his clubhouse. Davey was barely three when the two of them built that rickety old shack, but it remains my son’s retreat from the world. Without his clubhouse, he’s been a lost soul.

Lindy has taken to sucking her thumb again. I’m sure the divorce proceedings were responsible for that. And predictably Dougie started wetting the bed. Children need their father.

I’m telling you all this for a reason. I imagine you know what it is. Buck and I are getting back together. I didn’t make this decision lightly, any more than I made the decision to leave.

You and I both know Buck has his faults, but every one of us does. I have his word that he’ll never cheat on me again. He begged me to give him one last chance to prove himself. He begged me not to break up our family.

For weeks I’ve been torn, not knowing what to do. My children cry at night after Buck comes to visit, because they miss him so much. They all want to move back home.

I used to think I was smart, but solving algebra equations is a whole lot easier than making decisions that affect the lives of my children. Maybe I’m weak. I don’t know anymore. I wouldn’t take him back if I didn’t firmly believe he’s learned his lesson. I’ve made it clear that if he has another affair, it’s over—right then and there.

Thank you for your support and love during this time. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Jillian. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.

Your mom is interviewing other women for the housekeeper position. There’s a reason I’m not going to continue with the job. Oh, Jillian, I did something terribly stupid. You don’t need to be upset with me, because I’m upset enough with myself.

Earlier in the month, Buck stopped by the apartment one night. The kids were all asleep and he said he wanted to talk. We did talk, but then he spent the night and, well...you guessed it. I’m pregnant. I haven’t told Buck yet, but I already know he’ll be absolutely delighted.

We’re both going to give this reconciliation everything we have. I wouldn’t do this if I had a single doubt of his love for the children and me. We’re both going to try harder to make our marriage work.

I’m grateful to Montgomery Gordon. He was wonderful through all of this. I know he’s disappointed but he’d never openly admit it. He doted on the kids and they took a shine to him, too. You said he’s a stuffed shirt and I agree he is a bit stiff before you get to know him, but he’s a very nice man.

Thank you for being the best friend I’ve ever had.

Love,
Lesley